


Angel On My Side

by MacabreMoose



Series: Supernatural and Teen Wolf Crossovers [1]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angel Stiles Stilinski, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Derek Hale Needs a Hug, Gen, Gen Fic, Poor Derek Hale, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott Must Be Protected At All Costs, Scott is a Good Friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:41:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27656993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacabreMoose/pseuds/MacabreMoose
Summary: “Except for you, Stiles.” Matt sneered, “What do you turn into?”“Angel, actually.” Stiles dropped all pretenses of paralysis via Jackson venom, and sat up straight, crossing his arms over his chest and pulling out his most disappointed mom-face ever. “Wanna see my wings?”
Relationships: Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski
Series: Supernatural and Teen Wolf Crossovers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037808
Comments: 5
Kudos: 252





	Angel On My Side

“Except for you, Stiles.” Matt sneered, “What do you turn into?” It was obvious that the boy was still swept away with the sheer feeling of power and control of having a pet murder-lizard. Huh, he really was going all out with the whole evil villain monologue thing.

That condescending little jerk. 

Bitch was definitely slated for a serving of divine wrath, dealt out by yours truly. Nobody was allowed to mess with his Dad’s deputies and get away with it! Nobody hurts dad, and nobody hurts Scott! 

Oh, and nobody hurt Derek too, because the guy was like a poor little puppy who’d been shoved inside a washing machine, yanked out and then drop-kicked off the side of the building and dealt the _shittiest_ fate ever known to man.

Or wolf-kind. Anyway.

“Angel, actually.” Stiles dropped all pretenses of paralysis via Jackson venom, and sat up straight, crossing his arms over his chest and pulling out his most disappointed mom-face ever. “Wanna see my wings?”

The weight of Derek’s confused stare was added to Matt’s disbelieving but somewhat uneasy glare. Yeesh, Stiles was really feeling important tonight. To quote Darth Vader (because Star Wars was always relevant) - _I find your lack of faith... **disturbing**._

And, Force-choke! Or maybe not.

A glance to the right revealed that Scott was giving him the frowny puppy-face again. Default setting; confusion. Scott McCall in a nutshell, everyone!

_Oh ye of little faith._

Stiles was feeling particularly bitchy that night. He was annoyed, tired and hungry, and really couldn’t be bothered to deal with the next succession of Beacon Hill’s long line of serial killers.

So, yes, he pulled out his wings, body straightening instinctively as the shadow of his wings darkened the wall behind him. The back of his skull burned slightly, and he knew that his eyes were glowing blue with his angelic grace. 

Also, bam, lightning and all that jazz.

“ _Oh my god!_ ” Matt squeaked, practically falling backwards in shock. His classmate’s face was pale and sweaty all of a sudden. First off, ew. 

Secondly, this was awesome.

Stiles sighed, stopping the impromptu lightshow and returning back to his human persona. “Nope. He left the building a long time ago.” 

“Oh my god.” Matt whispered, eyes glassy and having seemingly not heard him. “Oh my god. I’m dead.”

“Not yet.” Stiles corrected, stretching his knuckles lazily, a dangerous look settling over his features. Dropping his voice into a low purr, he added, “Five second head-start. Run, little lizard. _Run_.”

Matt took another step back, chest heaving with sheer panic, before fleeing as if the hounds of Hell were on his trail. Stiles supposed that was probably not too far off the mark. After all, he was much more dangerous than the Pit’s pups, and he knew it.

He turned back to his friends, feeling Matt’s tainted soul flee further and further away from the station and - _whoops_ , Daehlar was dead. Then again, there were some serious job perks when one was of heavenly origin and had thousands of years to hone their skills.

Derek looked like he was going to faint any minute now, and _okay_ , the wolf sort of deserved it after slamming Stiles’s head into a steering wheel. The sheer audacity of hurting his Jeep was unforgivable, so Stiles was just gonna leave him to stew in his terror just for a little while longer.

On the other hand, Scott’s expression was surprisingly not one of fear or terror. Rather, he looked as if he’d been kicked in the gut. _Repeatedly_. 

“How come you didn’t tell me?” Scott asked instead, an utterly crestfallen expression on his face. “That, you know, you’re- you’re a…” 

His voice trailed off, so Stiles helpfully picked it up for him. 

“Angel?” Stiles said dryly, before adding, “One of the Rit Zien, actually. Medics, mercy killers, or heavenly Angels of Mercy. Depends on which one you prefer.”

Scott’s eyebrows furrowed. “That is slightly disturbing. But cool.” He admitted slowly, but then amended, “But I was asking why didn’t you tell me? I thought we were best friends…”

Damn it. There was a pitiful face again. And the puppy-dog eyes. And the wobbling lip. And the slight shine of tears in wide brown eyes.

_Shit._

That stuff was Stiles-kryptonite. 

“ _Oh my-_ for heaven’s sake, Scott!” Stiles threw up his hands in the air in exasperation. “I have literally been telling you for ages! Want a flashback? Cause I can give you a lot of examples.”

Reaching out, he tapped his friend’s forehead, feeling the slight knot of tension in his gut vanish when Scott didn’t flinch away.

_“Scott, I can fly.” A five-year Stiles said seriously, his hands clasping his newly dubbed best friend’s shoulder._

_Scott beamed back, his front tooth missing. “Cool!” He exclaimed, then went back to playing with his sandcastle._

_Stiles’s eyebrows furrowed. Then, he shrugged and joined his friend._

——— ———

“ _Dad, I’m an angel!”_

_“More like my little devil.” Sheriff teased, missing the completely horror-filled look on his son’s face._

_A second later, the seven year-old kid completely burst into tears and became unconsolable for hours thereafter._

——— ———

_“Scott, I’m telling you, I’m an angel. Wings and all. No halo or harp, though.” Stiles’s loud whisper broke through the silence of the night. Yep, Scott was still aggressively cuddling him. It was practically normal at this point, especially with all the sleepovers._

_That kid was practically like a huge overgrown puppy._

_He waited a moment for a reply after his rushed confession, but only a loud snore answered Stiles in return, so he shrugged helplessly, turned right back and went back to sleep._

——— ———

_“I’m a freaking angel!” Stiles yelled, tears streaming down his face as he pumped his tiny eight year-old fists into the air. “I’m ordering you to gimme my mom back!”_

_Biting his lip, Scott watched his friend worriedly from afar, unsure on whether he should get the Sheriff or hug the sadness out of his best friend, as Stiles had an entirely one-sided conversation with air. He managed to catch the last part of the rant, although it made no sense to him._

_“You had no right to take her!” Stiles practically howled, punching at the air as if there were someone there. “Give her back!”_

_“I don’t care about the rules!”_

_Stiles collapsed onto the ground, still sobbing._

_And for a moment, Scott could’ve sworn that there was someone else standing there._

_But when he blinked and looked again, the dark blur was already gone._

——-- ———

_**Brother’s Day** (a tradition as practiced by Scott McCall and Mieczyslaw Stilinski after expressing their disappointment in the general overall lack of bromance)_

_“Scott McCall.” Stiles said, solemnly pulling out an orange-flavoured juice box, Scott’s favourite. “I have thousands of brothers up there. Some are dicks, some are junkless and most really suck. But you, Scott, are my bestest best friend, and I am honoured to call you my brother.”_

_Although he didn’t completely understand what Stiles meant about ‘brothers up there’, and opting to simply accept it as part of Stiles-weirdness, Scott’s eyes teared up, and in a flash, he launched himself forward, wrapping his arms around his best brother ever. “Thank you, Stiles.” He practically bawled, gratefully taking said juice box as Stiles offered it to him._

_After a while, he stepped back, face still red with tears. Almost shyly, he pulled out a Peanut Butter Reese cup. “Happy brother’s day.”_

_Then, unable to stop himself, he pounced forward again, pulling Stiles into a fierce hug that lasted at least five whole minutes._

_It felt like an eternity, but that was okay, because it was the bestest type of eternity ever._

_——— ———_

_“Scott, I have wings.” Stiles confessed nervously, the century-old being stuck inside the fledgling body of fourteen human years._

_Scott pointed to a distant blur on the horizon above. “Like a bird?” He asked, grinning as his friend sputtered, then reached over to tickle him mercilessly._

_**Notes** : The Tickle Wars was then hereby declared with that major act of treason, and the next few weeks would be complete chaos as the Tickle War morphed into the Prank War that turned into the Pillow Fight War and finally back to the Food War._

_That was, as they say, the end of that. For the moment, anyway._

——— ———

_“How did you get on my roof?” Scott asked suddenly, frowning in confusion, as they tracked through the woods to find the body. It had been the Night Of The Body, or half the body anyway, as they would find out much later._

_“I used my wings.” Stiles deadpanned, completely serious._

_“What, like Batman?” Scott asked, grinning. “Awesome.”_

_——— ———_

_“Scott.” Stiles’s face popped up from behind the library shelf. “You know like how you’re a werewolf? Yeah, I’m an angel.”_

_“Not really.” Scott’s nose crinkled. “I mean, you did vandalise Harris’s house just last week, so…”_

_“First off, that was heavenly justice, and you helped! Secondly, we both know that the jerk deserved it!”_

——— ———

_“Scott.” Stiles drawled out, hanging upside down on the couch in the McCall’s living room. “I’m an angel! I can flyyyyyy!”_

_“I think the blood rush might be getting to you.” Scott’s face suddenly peered into his, concerned etched into his features. “I’m gonna get Mom.”_

——-- ——— 

_“Scott, I’m not human.” Stiles tried again, before huffing then giving up entirely._

_“Mmhm.” Scott sighed, still helplessly staring out the window. “I miss Allison.”_

Stiles pulled back, giving his friend approximately half-a-second to reacquaint himself with his senses, before Stiles burst out with a, “See, Scott? I already told you!”

“I thought that you were joking!” Scott protested, reaching out to grip his friend’s shoulders. 

“Scott, why do you think that I dress up as an angel every freaking Halloween?

“I don’t know! I thought that it was the same reason why you always make me do Luke Skywalker!”

“That’s because Luke is also an adorable little ray of sunshine that must be protected at all costs!”

Scott gasped, putting his hand dramatically over his heart. “You really think that of me?” He asked, his words wobbling slightly. “You would… protect me?”

“Scott.” Stiles huffed, “I would burn the whole world for you.”

Scott teared up, and the next thing that Stiles knew, he had several pounds of werewolf wrapped around him in a hug. _Classic McCall_ , he grumbled silently, carefully patting back.

The werewolf sniffed, before reluctantly letting go. There was a slight pause.

“Um, Scott, remember when we were ten?” Stiles volunteered after an awkward moment of silence. Derek Hale still looked like he was having a mid-life crisis over at the corner. 

At Scott’s answering nod, Stiles quickly added with a rush. “Yeah, I sort of _maybe_ blessed you… So, congrats Saint Scott!” His face turned a little red before he choked out the final part. “Guardian of video games and juice boxes.”

Scott’s face _lit up._

Derek still looked like he was having a stroke, but that was pretty much impossible for werewolves, so, eh, he should be fine. Eventually.

Though in hindsight, maybe he should have waited just a little longer before choosing the titles for Scott. But, hey, what could he say? He had been an impulsive little shit back in those days.

A prickle ran down Stiles’s spine and his back stiffened, feeling several new arrivals come into range of the Station. _Showtime_. Welcome to the final confrontation, kiddos.

“Gerard is outside. Allison too, but I think that I can talk her down from the whole vengeance thing.” Stiles said, frowning, before breaking into a wicked smile. “Want to watch some divine wrath being served?”

“ _Hell_ , yes!” Scott emphasised, suddenly excited. He was still feeling bitter over the whole stabbing thing. Plus, nobody threatened his Mom and got away with it! And if Allison would be okay, well that was an extra good thing.

“Yeah, okay.” Derek’s voice came from behind them, somewhat subdued as he contemplated his whole life’s existence. “Me too, but I want a front row seat.”

**Author's Note:**

> “How come you don’t trust Deaton?” Scott asked.
> 
> “He had my Grace stuffed inside a box.” Stiles deadpanned. “With all the cat toys. So, yes, I dislike him.”


End file.
